Summer Futures
by Emmylou
Summary: Eight year old Hermione’s holiday is not going as planned, what happens when she wanders onto Malfoy territory by accident? Not as AU as you'd think.


Summer Futures  
  
PG  
  
Eight year old Hermione's holiday is not going as planned, what happens when she wanders onto Malfoy territory by accident?  
  
A/N- This was yet another attempt in my series of short stories in which I write about characters not seen as much. This is Narcissa Malfoy's turn- she was going to be in more of this, but the story mutated on me.

* * *

Every summer Mr. and Mrs. Granger would drive Hermione to a little village in Suffolk, where they would spend week sightseeing, relaxing, and Hermione would play with the other children.  
  
The children were used to having other kids come in from the cities and let them play along with them without asking much. Hermione liked spending time with them; she knew their names by heart: Tom, Jake, Helen-Marie, and Kayleigh. They had been good friends last year when she was seven and had let her join in all the games.  
  
When her parents had gone on the village tour as they had last year, she had eagerly rushed outside to meet them.  
  
"Hey everyone, it me!" she had called as she rushed over to meet them. They had smiled faintly.  
  
"Hi," Helen-Marie had said stiffly, holding out a sticky hand.  
  
"Um, you were here last year, weren't you?" said Tom vaguely. "You've got a fancy name..."  
  
Hermione had felt ill. They didn't remember her. She hadn't changed that much had she? Her hair was a bit longer than before, and her skin was a bit more tanned from when the car had broken down and they'd had to wait for hours to have it fixed on the hottest day of the year. Still, she didn't look very different.  
  
"It's Hermione," she said awkwardly. "I was here last summer. I'm eight now."  
  
They had smiled and let her play, but it didn't seem the same anymore. They had forgotten her, probably played with a hundred kids since then. She had remembered them and had looked forward to seeing them for weeks. It wasn't fair.  
  
They had done all the usual things- gone on walks, ate sweets, even played with the water guns in Jake's garden, but it felt different. She felt almost excluded. Sometimes they'd talk about someone at school, or remember something that had happened when she had been at home and she'd sit there, puzzled until they remembered her almost as an afterthought.  
  
"Aren't you going to play with your little playmates today?" Joanne Granger asked that morning. They were sitting at a wooden table in a county kitchen that felt alien to her. She was picking at her soldiers with little enthusiasm.  
  
"You'll have to say goodbye to them tomorrow," said her Dad as he took his fourth slice of bread. "Then it's back to normal life."  
  
"Mm," she replied.  
  
"You can always come on-" her mother picked up a leaflet, "'the blackberry walk- a guided tour of the countryside which offers astounding views of nature and is followed up by a boat ride along the canal and a go in a lock.'"  
  
"No, I went on it last year." she said heavily.  
  
"You've seen one lock, you've seen 'em all, isn't that right Hermione?" said David Granger with a chuckle.  
  
"It's okay Dad, just a little sad to be going home, that's all," Hermione offered.  
  
Ten minutes later she had been rubbed furiously with sun cream, had a large hat forced over her hair and had been instructed to 'wear sunglasses at all times'.  
  
"Hi Hermione!" said Tom. He was a short but fast-talking boy who seemed to be the leader. "Do you know about the Haunted House?"  
  
The Haunted House was the mansion not too far away from the village. Every child nearby would argue until death that the place was 'spooky', 'creepy' and any other word you cared to add.  
  
A ten year old (who seemed to be the oldest kid they knew) argued until he was blue in the face that a 'two legged rat the size of my baby brother' tried to bite his leg off.  
  
"Did we take you there last time?" asked Kayleigh.  
  
"You were going to, but it rained the day before I went home," said Hermione dully.  
  
"We'll take you there today then," said Jake, who seemed pleased to get the chance to frighten some new kid. "It's haunted!"  
  
"And a witch lives there," whispered Helen-Marie, her fat pig-tails shaking in terror.  
  
"Both at once?" said Hermione incredulously. "It's a wonder it doesn't collapse with all the scary stuff happening in it."  
  
"We didn't know about the witch either- but there was a woman in the garden and she was wearing black."  
  
"She had a pointy hat too!" said Tom, mortified that Kayleigh had left out the most crucial part.  
  
"Was it Halloween?" asked Hermione severely.  
  
"No!" said Helen-Marie. "Even if it was she was really old, probably thirty. Grown-up's don't dress up for Halloween."  
  
With Kayleigh leading the way, they wandered towards the mansion grounds.  
  
It was a large building; in fact, Hermione doubted her parents would be able to afford it if they won a million pounds. The grass was like a bowling green's and the hedges had been pruned to within an inch of their lives. Tasteful statues decorated the place and there was a trickle that suggested a fountain. The walls glowed and the windows shone and with the trees blossoming it seemed a most wonderful place to live. The whole place was surrounded by a decorative brick and gate system and to her surprise the entrance gates were wide open.  
  
"Scary, right?" said Jake delightedly.  
  
"Mm," said Hermione, who had never seen a less scary place in her life. "Definitely awe-inspiring."  
  
"You talk funny," grumbled Kayleigh.  
  
"Looks about ready to collapse," said Helen-Marie knowingly. Obviously she wanted to prevent a fight.  
  
Hermione stared at her, and then back to the house. Were they looking at the same house?  
  
"This is where the witch lives, and that's where we saw her," Kayleigh pointed at the steps of the house.  
  
"Have you ever been into the house?" said Hermione. She was waiting for a heroic tale in which they'd kicked a ball in and gone to investigate. They seemed the sort to do that.  
  
"We keep _meaning_ to," said Tom wretchedly, "but every time we get up the nerve our mums find us first and makes us come home."  
  
"Last time we tried, Helen fainted!" teased Jake.  
  
"It wasn't my fault," huffed the chubby girl. "It was really hot, so we had to go home."  
  
"Are we going in now?" asked Hermione. Her fringe was lank with sweat and her hat had long ago been shoved in her bag.  
  
"Now?" said Tom. "We can't, we have to be home in ten minutes!"  
  
"I thought you said you could be out until dinner?" asked Hermione coolly.  
  
"But there's this _film_," he said invitingly. "Got lots of guns in it-"  
  
"-and aliens," added Jake.  
  
"Don't you _want_ to go inside?" she asked with an equally tempting manner.  
  
"Well yeah, but this film is so cool..."  
  
"Well you can watch the film, but I won't get another chance to go inside until next year. So if you want, you can go watch the film, or you can come with me," she said firmly.  
  
They would _definitely _remember her after this. When she came next year they'd remember her as 'the cool girl who went in the haunted house even though it wasn't really haunted'.  
  
Then she stepped into the threshold and began to march down the incredibly long driveway. Gravel crunched under her feet and she took a moment to pull up her knee length socks, in case a butler thought she was scruffy or something. She had no idea what she was going to say when she got there...  
  
She paused on the steps a moment to look back. Tom was openly gaping and Helen-Marie was sobbing into Kayleigh's shoulder. Jake seemed to be hopping from foot to foot.  
  
She turned, straightened her cardigan, and walked to the door.  
  
Reaching up onto tiptoes she hefted the snake-shaped knocker and let if fall.  
  
A moment passed.  
  
Then another.  
  
Finally the door was hefted open and a well dressed man stood rather graciously in the door.  
  
"Yes?" he asked, rather rudely in Hermione's opinion.  
  
"Excuse me sir, I'd like to talk to the lady that lives here. I would like her to answer a question if she isn't busy."  
  
"Mrs. Malfoy is always _extremely_ busy," said the man who Hermione felt sure was the butler. "I shall ask her, however."  
  
He shut the door firmly and returned what seemed to be minutes later.  
  
"You may come in," he said heavily.  
  
She was led through room after room and down numerous corridors. Hermione would have dearly loved to take the time to look at the paintings and such, but did not want to appear rude and stare. After all, a house lie this was bound to have some really amazing paintings. Maybe even ones by Constable or Gainsborough.  
  
She followed the mans highly polished shoes until they reached a wooden frame that was surely a door,  
  
"Here is the young lady Madame," he said stiffly and left them.  
  
She looked up in time to see a woman that was as equally stiff as the butler sit down gracefully in a high backed chair. The table she sat at was dark wood and the chairs had green upholstery. Other than that the room had little furniture. At one end sat a dark writing bureau which the woman had no doubt been working at. At the other was a fireplace with a silver carriage clock resting on the mantle and a green chaise-lounge rested by the window. It all seemed very elegant to Hermione, who was feeling stupider and stupider every second.  
  
The woman herself was, from a distance, the woman her playmates had described. Closer up and without the hat she seemed even more intimidating. Her white hair was dragged back into a bun and her skin was so pale that Hermione wondered whether she was unwell. In places around her eyes and forehead the skin seemed worn, as though it had been plucked from her face with tweezers, but her chin and mouth were smooth.  
  
"Why am I interrupted from my work by a nine year old? How did you get here? Who are you? Why are you dressed like a muggle?"  
  
Hermione floundered, not sure what she was supposed to answer first. Eventually she answered as politely as she could, trying to sound more like an adult than a child.  
  
"Pardon me ma'am, but I'm eight. I just walked up the path- the gates were open so I didn't know better. My name is Hermione Granger, and I, um, I'm not sure what a muggle is exactly. I'm here because some of the children in the village have the childish idea that you are a witch. Are you?"  
  
The woman in front of her sighed impatiently.  
  
"I see." her voice lowered. "Why couldn't Lucious have paid extra for the anti-muggle-born repelling charms?" she muttered. Her face slid from its scowl to a more tolerable expression. "I am not a witch, but I shall give you some advice Miss. Granger. This is not a place for a muggle-born- that is- people like you, to be. The only reason you are not in a considerable amount of trouble is that I do not wish to deal with the fuss you would cause. So I suggest you leave this house as quickly as possible and return home to your mother. Good day to you."  
  
She then tapped at something with a stick rather impatiently.  
  
"Mr. Rusterson, show the girl out immediately. Do not allow her to see anything she should not."  
  
The butler appeared and placed a firm hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Certainly Madame."  
  
As Hermione was led away, her eyes once again on the carpet, she heard a faint embittered mutter from the woman.  
  
"-it seems Draco shall be sharing his classes with the likes of her then."  
  
The butler did not let go of her until she had reached the point she had been before. He turned and left without so much as a 'don't let me catch you here again!' As soon as he was out of sight three figures popped out of the bushes.  
  
"That was so cool!" cheered Helen-Marie.  
  
"Awesome!" agreed Jake.  
  
"Thanks," Hermione blushed. No one had ever said she was cool before.  
  
"You'll have to give us your phone number," said Helen-Marie. That way we can keep in touch until you come again.  
  
"Yeah, it's a pity you can't live here really," said Tom.  
  
She caught a small scowl coming from Kayleigh. She had always been classed as the adventurer-in-chief. Helen had whispered that Kayleigh was going to marry Tom someday. The girl apparently felt a little put out to have been replaced.  
  
"So will you be coming again next summer?" asked Helen.  
  
"I'm not sure," she mumbled.  
  
"Well, we'll definitely write to you," said Jake.  
  
Somehow, looking at here eager new friends Hermione didn't feel as comfortable. Last summer it had been amazing, they'd had lots of fun without Hermione having to prove herself. She had a sneaky feeling that friends weren't something you had to earn.  
  
Maybe when they wrote to her she might conveniently forget them too, like they had done to her.

* * *

So what did you think? Loved it? Hated it? I can't do anything until you tell me.  
  
Now, I would like to dedicate this story to all my reviewers on my story : Welcome to the Wizarding World. They've been ever so patient waiting for an update (I lost my copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's stone and couldn't continue until I found it. I should make another post in days.)  
  
This story '**Summer Futures'** is one of a quite long series of one-shots in which I try writing other characters. The stories are always things that could realistically happen or have happened and there not usually shipped so they're suitable for the whole family. They're not in order or even interlinked. Here's a list accompanied by their main character;  
  
**Meetings**: Luna Lovegood **Lightening Photography**: Mossy Lovegood (Luna's dad) **Sides**: Gregory Goyle   
  
**The Essay:** Goyle  
  
**Veela Tales**: Fleur   
  
**Weasel-dum and Weasel-dee**: Angelina Johnson **Fred and George**: Fred and George  
  
**Finding a Voice**: Umbridge  
  
All of them are non-shipped (or unseen ship) one-shots and can be found at my profile page, reviews will be cherished. That's it, my bout of shameless self promotion over until the next one. 


End file.
